Definitely, Maybe
by Mickleditch
Summary: [Melody (aka S.W.A.L.K), 1971] Missing scene, 100% fluff. Daniel and Melody come up with a solution to a problem. (Daniel x Melody x Ornshaw, non-sexual threesome, incredibly mild language)


Disclaimer: Melody and all characters copyright to Hemdale and Goodtimes Enterprises and written by Andrew Birkin and Alan Parker. Thanks guys.

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"You're Daniel's friend," Melody says. She speaks carefully, with the same sort of concentration that she's giving to the daisies she's threading. Her head's bowed as she pulls them, one by one, from the scrubby ground and pierces the stems with her thumbnail. "So if I love Daniel, and he loves you, that means I should love you as well, shouldn't I?"

Ornshaw props himself on his elbows and looks at her, trying to decide if the pair of them are having him on, squinting into the sunshine from his spot opposite Daniel. This is their place, out here, the railway arches. All of theirs, everyone who knows about it, wants it and isn't chicken. No teachers when you're out here, not for miles and miles - only birds, the grinding hum of Battersea power station from down the river that you can hear long before you reach it, and the wind. They found it, made it theirs with football and fags and the odd explosive, and it belongs to them now. All the mucky feelings about school and home go away when you're here. You can be on your own, have secrets.

Though it's not as if Danny and Melody Perkins are much of a bloody secret, is it?

_The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away_, the headmaster had been saying yesterday in assembly. Well, he giveth to some people, if they're in luck, and he certainly flipping taketh away from others. Ornshaw took the kid under his wing right from the start, and then all _she_ has to do is wrinkle her nose at him a couple of times and he's gone and fallen for it; hook, line and sinker.

"Are you joking, or what?"

"No," Melody says. Ornshaw has to admit her nose isn't wrinkling right at this minute. She looks like she's thinking instead.

"Neither of us are," Daniel puts in.

"'Cos, in case you hadn't noticed," Ornshaw gets to his feet and picks up an empty Corona orangeade; drop kicks it, sending it flying and bumping into the grass, "nobody's ended up doing much laughing since you and Romeo here decided to scarper to Southend on an early honeymoon."

Daniel's eyes follow it until it rolls to a halt. "Actually, we were going to ask _you_ to marry us."

Ornshaw throws a disbelieving look over his shoulder. "You're barmy!" He swivels in Melody's direction for a moment. "And you! What d'you think I am, the Archbishop of Canterbury?"

"No," says Daniel, "you're our friend. Because you are, aren't you?"

"Get stuffed." Ornshaw aims another kick, then flops back down again. Love always ends up making monkeys out of people. He doesn't know why they wanted to go and do it, right when everything was going good. She's got friends, hasn't she, just like Danny's got his? If they'd wanted to be friends, Ornshaw couldn't have cared less. Might even have got to like it after a while, in the same way that he didn't want to think she was all right but ended up doing because she's got some bottle, in her own way. When people start saying they love each other, though, anyone else daft enough to keep hanging around them ends up getting the pushover.

Ornshaw's bloody _jealous_, and he knows it. He's got his feeling that tells him he's getting right slap bang in trouble but he can't make himself stop doing it.

What he doesn't really know is which one of them he's most jealous _of._

"We talked about it," Daniel says. He sounds all snobby and sincere, as usual. He wraps an arm around his knees, picking at his shoelace with the other hand. "We both decided none of it would turn out properly otherwise, because we'd never really be happy if you weren't going to be there. And all we want's to be happy, isn't it?" he adds, after a second. "All of us."

He's gone pinkish, like the colour of school blancmange. Ornshaw stares at him.

"Hang on a minute. Are you telling me both of you want me to stick with you or something?"

Melody pushes the tangle of her hair off her face, and he can see that she's smiling. The way the wind blows it around sort of makes Ornshaw think of flags and victory banners, and all the rest of the old rubbish from history lessons about blokes who lived hundreds of years ago, used funny words and built castles, and then popped their clogs just like every other poor sod. He used to like the battles and people getting arrows in their eyes when he was a kid. Suddenly he feels like he's in the most utterly brilliant war where everybody's come over to the same side.

"My mum always says all of us'd get along a lot better if we learned to share," Melody says.

His hand's flat on the ground, and she reaches out and puts hers over it, not much more than fingertips touching, as if she doesn't know yet what he's going to decide to do about it. On his other side, Daniel does the same, more firmly. Ornshaw sticks it for about a minute, then he hoists himself up, dragging the two of them with him.

"Well, come on, then," he says.

Daniel frowns a bit. "Where are we going?"

Ornshaw shrugs. "Anywhere you like."

They go out past the warehouses and the railway bridge to where it's all tall scraggy flowers under open sky, and then they run and run and run.


End file.
